


Occupied

by gunmetalfeathers



Category: Persona 5
Genre: Age Difference, Anal Sex, Bathroom Sex, Crushes, Daddy Kink, M/M, Not Beta Read, Oral Fixation, Semi-Public Sex, Size Difference
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-22 20:33:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30044328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gunmetalfeathers/pseuds/gunmetalfeathers
Summary: He relies on Iwai a lot to be a fixed point, something stable and unchanging that he can lean on. He can't ever tell him, obviously, and he's very aware that rough sex isn't really therapy, but it's working for him at the moment.
Relationships: Iwai Munehisa/Kurusu Akira, Iwai Munehisa/Persona 5 Protagonist
Comments: 4
Kudos: 32





	Occupied

**Author's Note:**

> iwashu is total endgame for me. p5 could have any outcome but as long as Iwai gets with his young boywife I'm happy. 
> 
> Akira is written with neutral genital language in this, if there's a follow up it'll be more gender-y than this. be cool about it please

_> I have a feeling you've been ignoring my messages... _

_> I want to see you today. _

_> I'll pop by. _

_[Don't bother, I'm busy.]_

Akira is already on his way from the station when his phone buzzes in his pocket with Iwai's reply. It doesn't perturb him in the slightest. 

They meet outside the bank, to Iwai's surprise. The older guy is in his usual long sleeves, jeans, boots and a hat. Like it's not a hundred degrees. At least he's not wearing his coat. He's holding an incredibly suspect paper bag when Akira approaches, tucking it under his arm.

Iwai visibly crumples when he notices Akira.

"Tch.. Did you have to show up wearing that? Did you follow me here?" 

"What, does it bother you?" Akira asks politely. Getting under Iwai's skin is too easy sometimes- he's pretty indifferent about their age gap for the most part (Akira has a feeling Iwai would still be calling him "kid" if he was 30), but he gets irked about the uniform often. 

"No, it's great that people will connect me with my kids' school if we hang out." Iwai chomps at his ever-present candy in irritation. Akira wishes sometimes he'd met this guy before he gave up smoking, to see him with something more dangerous at the corner of his mouth. The occasional rattle of Iwai's teeth on something solid was good though, a reminder of how sharp they could be.

"Oh, so I _am_ coming along?"

Iwai sighs, deeply, and palms his face. He looks annoyed but if he really wanted Akira gone he'd just ask. 

"I told you, I don't have _time_ for this today."

Akira tuts, stepping a little closer. "None?"

"Look kid, we've been over this. Thursday is good. You can come upstairs after work."

Akira swallows. 'Upstairs' is code for Iwai's apartment, his unmade bed and exhausted couch, and probably getting messed up on both. Iwai's apartment means actually getting to see the other guy let his guard down a little.

But he stands firm. 

"Thursday is next week. I'm here now, boss man." 

Iwai rolls the stick of the lollipop in the corner of his mouth. It swaps sides. He crosses his arms. 

"Alright. We've gotta make it quick though. Do me a favour- put this in your bag."

"Sure thing, boss." Akira salutes sardonically, unzipping it. It feels weird, too light without a cat in it anyway. Whatever Iwai puts in feels like a brick, weighing his shoulder down.

"I've got an errand at the station. C'mon."

Akira beams, eyes flashing behind his glasses.

\------- 

Central Station is absolutely heaving with people, shopping bags and conversations. Getting through it is a nightmare, and Akira almost loses Iwai a few times. He blends into a crowd pretty well for being so tall. He wishes he'd taken Iwai by the wrist for guidance, but there's no way he'd put up with that here in front of so many people. 

Akira knows where they're headed pretty well though, cutting through the masses of tourists and school uniforms swarming the ticket hall. They feel distant and insignificant to Akira as he passes through. He's getting good at blocking Tokyo out. 

He lets Iwai cut ahead and waits on the walkway, playing with his phone for a minute. He takes off his jacket and puts it away in his book bag, taking a moment to smudge some lip balm on, just in case. the little pot of vaseline goes back in his pants pocket to get warm. 

He waits another minute, anticipation making him feel restless.

He turns the corner to the restrooms and enters. It's not deserted but it's not as quiet as he was expecting. There are a few boys in school uniforms doing their hair by the mirrors, stinking of cans of spray. 

The cubicles are free except for the one closest to the wall. Akira clears his throat gently before it, keeping a careful eye on the bathroom's occupants. The lock clicks open, and he enters. 

"Hi," Akira says softly, putting his schoolbag on the gross floor. 

"Kid, you are fuckin' ridiculous." Iwai says chidingly, in a low hush, but reaches to grab him by the waist anyway, possessive and adamant.

He's warm and broad, pinning Akira to the grimy cubicle wall with large hands. 

"You seriously couldn't wait for this?" 

Akira squares up to Iwai with a grin, pressing their chests together. 

"Do you still feel like waiting?" 

Iwai scoffs, grabbing him by the ass and lifting him straight away. He's strong, though it's hard to read his musculature through his usual clothes. He takes care to hide the ink spanning his back, but it covers up a lot of his charm points in Akira's opinion. 

Akira hangs onto Iwai's vast shoulders, tracing greedy fingers along the solid lines of him, feeling manhandled in the best possible way. This is what he wanted. Iwai just snatched him and threw him like a toy. It's enough to make him dizzy. 

Iwai pins him to the wall with strong thighs under his butt and leans in to pepper rough kisses along his jaw. 

Akira sighs blissfully, the rough grind of Iwai's stubble scratching a familiar itch. 

"Missed this." He admits faintly, more to himself than to the other. He can smell Iwai's scent here, his skin and shampoo and sweat, and he can't resist nuzzling into his nape to get more of it. It's overfamiliar, or at least it feels like it, but that boundary is slowly giving way between the two of them anyway.

Iwai's yanking at his uniform sweater, probably stretching the neck out again, mouthing and nipping at whatever skin he can reach, but Akira feels him grin. 

"What, doing insane shit in public? You charmer." 

Akira wraps his legs a little tighter around Iwai's waist and laughs softly. "You got me. You're the only one who can keep up with me." 

It's not much of an exaggeration. He's got pretty wild tastes, and he worries what most people would think of him if they knew. Iwai's never batted an eyelid, even guessed some things correctly unbidden. He's difficult to take by surprise. He's unshakable, untouchable. Akira's obsessed with him. 

Iwai doesn't answer for a minute, palming at Akira's chest, thumbs seeking where he's sensitive through fabric. He digs his teeth into his neck to make him squeak, then speaks hotly against the skin there.

"I don't doubt it kid, you act like such a _slut_ sometimes." 

Akira mewls, held in place and groped all over, neat school uniform fucked up from rough hands. He's obliged to agree. 

"Just for you, stupid." 

Iwai purrs in approval, still bullying Akira's nipples. He's hard, pressing against the curve of Akira's ass. 

"Good. Don't get yourself in any more trouble." 

Akira tries to shift, or to move against him better, but these pants are a nightmare, polyester too much of a barrier between them. 

"Oh boss, are you worried about me?" He asks Iwai sweetly, mockingly, kissing him on the cheek. 

Iwai tuts, grabbing Akira's thighs and putting him down. "Don't be gross." 

The clattering and smoke screen of the young guys and their hairspray outside is finally letting up, which means they're going to have to shut up now.

Akira takes the opportunity to push Iwai back against the cubicle door. He's a big guy but he lets Akira guide him those few steps, making unwavering eye contact. He quirks an eyebrow slightly, a silent 'well?'

Akira drops to his knees, patterned school trousers looking suggestive against iwai's paint spattered jeans. 

Iwai tuts under his breath, whispering something about how Akira is "unbelievable", but cards his fingers through his hair in encouragement. 

Akira doesn't waste any time getting Iwai's flies undone and getting his cock out. Iwai makes his hands look tiny, and thinking about his size relative to the rest of Akira is thrilling. It's been long enough since they last did this that Iwai's going to have to carve himself a way back in, and thinking about that has had the teen distracted all day. Chores, cat parent duties, class, Ryuji had all gone on in the background while Akira thrummed with need and longing. 

"What, are you just gonna look at it?" iwai sneers, teasingly.

Akira kisses the head of his dick cutely in response. 

"Maybe I will," he says, tone flippant, working at the length of him with one hand. 

"What, you dragged me all this way for-" there's an awkward silence as Iwai's attention flickers to noises in the rest of the bathroom, but it only lasts a moment. 

"For a damn handjob?" 

Akira sighs. They can't talk like this. He's going to bust out his ace early. 

He shifts on his knees a little, lifting his ass enough to drop his pants. He slides his feet back and arches forward so Iwai can see him better.

He takes the vaseline out of his pocket and slicks two fingers, nice and visibly. 

Iwai chokes a little, biting it back, then chuckles roughly.

"Alright, alright. I'm interested. Don't hurt yourself." The way he says it isn't soft in the slightest, but it's not unkind. It makes that odd part of Akira feel besotted when Iwai is protective. He's a coarse, standoffish guy but there are sparks of warmth in him on occasion. 

Akira nods silently, rubbing at himself to relax the muscle, trying to focus on Iwai's heavy dick in his hand. He fingers the rim of his hole with greasy digits. He's ready emotionally for this, but logistically this is going to be a challenge.

"You need distractin', kid?" Iwai asks quietly, tipping Akira's face with calloused fingertips. It's almost caring, the way he thumbs at his chin, but he's also guiding Akira's mouth. 

Akira nods in agreement, easing the tip of one finger into himself. 

Iwai starts working his own cock to make it easier for the boy on his knees, pulling his foreskin back to expose more of himself. The sight of the size disparity between their hands is ridiculous. Akira's not even a small guy. 

Iwai's other hand is still heavy in Akira's hair, territorial. It's a simple touch but it speaks volumes. 

Akira leans in to mouth at Iwai, dizzy for the sight of him, when a hard knock on the cubicle door shocks him out of his haze. 

"Bud, it's _occupied_ ," Iwai calls out straight away, sounding irritated, not even pausing in jerking himself against Akira's lips. He's routinely terrible in situations like this, rude and seeking adrenaline in ways that make Akira's veins buzz with excitement. 

There's a little fumbling but whoever it is huffs loudly, saying something about disrespect, and goes away. The cubicles here cover a little more ankle than most public bathrooms. that doesn't matter if Akira's in here for normal reasons, but if he's on his knees in front of someone, with his ass out, in his easily identified school clothes it's probably for the best. It'd be pretty easy to figure out if anyone had a peek. 

Akira spent a while trying to stick to his probation flawlessly, as a model student and citizen, but the stifling oppression made him constantly anxious, always paranoid. Iwai is more interested and versed in doing what he chooses without getting caught, which suits Akira much better.

As easy as it'd be to date Niijima, take her to cinema dates, maybe even tell his disinterested parents, have vanilla sex in his attic room without offending anyone... He keeps finding himself in situations like this, kneeling before this ex-yakuza in risky situations where they could both get arrested again. He chose to come here straight away in his school clothes, knowing exactly how bad that looked. He let himself daydream about getting roughed up rather than focusing on lessons.

Similarly, Iwai had brought him here instead of just taking him back to Untouchable's secure backroom. Both catalysts for each other. Both outcasts finding their way. 

Both absolute deviants, from the run of things.

Iwai pulls at Akira's suspender strap like he'd tug a dog's lead. 

"Y'okay?" 

He's gotten distracted, clearly, a little unresponsive to the cock in his face, though his hand is still working behind him. 

Akira meets his eyes and nods. He's actually bubbling over with adrenaline thinking about this. He nuzzles his head into Iwai's arm, catlike. "I'm good." 

"We haven't got all day, kid. You need help or what?" 

Akira shakes his head insistently, wanting to take more time like this, splayed out for him. He's also pretty sure if he doesn't stretch for another couple minutes Iwai is gonna tear him in half. Iwai's fingers are good, surprisingly deft for their scope, but he's not stretched enough for them yet.

"I said I'm good. You getting bored, old man?" Akira takes his glasses off and pockets them, so he has something to hide behind on the way home. 

Iwai cups his chin for a moment, tipping his head up, making eye contact, making Akira feel like a pet. Iwai's hands are big and warm and coarse but they're precise from detail work. Akira could probably come like this, just Iwai looking down at him, eyebrows drawn together and jaw firm with scrutiny, Iwai's hand on his own cock, Akira with one measly finger in himself. He doesn't want to, doesn't ever want Iwai to know how bad he's got it either, but the fact of it makes his cheeks burn a little. 

Iwai tuts and nods, letting go of Akira's face to card through his hair again. 

"Get on with it then." 

Akira dips his head to suck at the underside of iwai's cock, already drooling, mouth flooded from the smell of his skin and sweat and arousal. He's up to the last knuckle in himself already, the stinging giving way to a hot stretch. Iwai holds himself and messes with Akira's hair, quietly encouraging. 

Akira mouths at the tip of Iwai's cock to get it wet, breaching himself with a second finger, and starts to take Iwai into his mouth.

Iwai makes a small, tight noise, nodding in approval.

He isn't as hard as he has been so it's easier than usual to fit his cock between Akira's lips. Akira can flatten his tongue and bob his head some, feeling and tasting as he's filled.

He feels less like a boa constrictor than usual, no ache in the corners of his mouth, but they're only just getting started. 

He longs to have his hair pulled and his face fucked hard, made a mess of, but there's no time to play with his gag reflex, no opportunity to wash the mess off his face afterwards.

Iwai is cool above him, holding himself steady, while Akira rattles apart on his knees. 

Iwai is letting him suck his cock because he knows how much it gets to him, how easily it gets him leaking and needy.

"You getting ready for me, brat?" Iwai says gruffly, more of a command than a question, and it makes Akira's head spin. He can just about nod with his mouth full. 

He pushes in and out of himself insistently, adding another fingertip, getting rougher, and the stretch is getting enough that it sends jolts of heat through his thighs

"Fuck, that's right." Iwai hisses in delight, fisting the boy's hair to control his head, use his mouth.

Akira can't get enough of that feeling, being spread open on both ends, mouth full of the flavour of Iwai's musk and bitterness, getting good purchase with his fingers finally, kneeling like a whore in a restroom with scarlet cheeks, hard and dripping into his underwear.

He tried to be good. He'd really tried. This was just much more rewarding than fitting in. 

It doesn't take long for him to get sloppy and worn out though, jaw complaining and delirious from not breathing properly. Iwai's cock catches something at his palate that makes his mouth rush with spit, sudden, causing a wet moan to bubble from the back of his throat, around Iwai. 

Iwai's cock is wide in a way Akira's mouth just _isn't_ , no matter how much they seem to do this. It feels insanely good to be stretched open, to have as much of his mouth filled as Iwai will allow him, eyes tearing up and gag reflex succumbing in stops and starts, but there's no fucking _time_. 

He's got no stamina for it like this, anyway. Especially if there's more coming. 

Iwai, always more attentive to detail than he seems, is already pushing Akira back by the forehead before he's decided to quit. 

"Alright, alright. Get up." He offers Akira a hand despite sounding cold and indifferent. 

Akira wants to be picked up again, pinned in place by strong thighs, but Iwai's spinning him round instead, shoving him against the cold tile hard, knocking the air out of him.

Akira only gasps minutely but he's sure they're getting _loud_ , it must be so recognisable what they were doing in there. There's no gap on these doors for him to peek around. Anyone could be listening to him getting smacked around. 

Iwai pins him easily, sliding a thick forearm across Akira's throat, and purrs into his ear.

"Come on kid, you wanted quick and nasty right?" He's tugging Akira's pants further down carelessly, getting himself in position. 

Akira nods, dazedly, trying to brace himself with his forearms to keep his hands off the gross wall. His underwear is damp between his thighs, but it's better hovering there than touching the floor anymore. 

"Yes daddy," he pants, rutting his hips back against Iwai's cock. 

Iwai tuts disapprovingly, squeezing Akira's throat with a flex of one firm wrist, making him mewl.

"And you'll quit shit like that unless you really want to piss me off." 

Akira keeps quiet for a moment as Iwai nudges against the rim of him, dribbling a wad of spit between his spread cheeks. Best not to poke that bear right now. He's so wound up and sensitive he could scream, but he's trying to keep his abdomen relaxed. No lubricant isn't exactly a first, so he knows what to expect. 

Iwai finds the angle and pushes, sliding in through the first ring of muscle. It burns in a way that makes Akira's thighs shake. 

Held in place by a huge hand on his hip and an arm around his throat, all he can really do is hang on and tremble anyway. Iwai pushes into his insides like the resistance isn't there, but it's searing, overwhelming. 

It blots out everything- grades stress, conformity, his stupid part time jobs, his friends pulling him in all directions at once, saving Japan. None of it matters here while he's getting used like this. He needs this, needs Iwai anchoring him in place and clearing his head with each push of his hips. He relies on Iwai a lot to be a fixed point, something stable and unchanging that he can lean on. He can't ever tell him, obviously, and he's very aware that rough sex isn't really therapy, but it's working for him at the moment. 

Iwai presses into him, a sharp bite of pain amongst the hot warmth swimming in his head, and Akira can't even cry out, settling for biting the back of his own wrist to keep quiet as he starts to move. 

Iwai's breath is hot against the side of his neck, and it's almost soothing. He nips the skin above Akira's neckline, nearly a kiss. He's good at noticing when the boy gets stuck in his own head. "Doing good, kid. Keep it up." 

Akira nods, feeling himself giving way to let Iwai drive another fat inch inside. Iwai grips his hip firmly, rumbling an encouragement behind him. He knows he's too tight still, god knows how it feels for Iwai to get squeezed out like this, but he bears back for him, heady with need and want. 

"This what you wanted?" 

"Fuck yes, you're so _big_ , I can't-" He's silenced by a large hand cupping over his mouth, pulling his head back, arching him to take it deeper. 

"Attaboy." It was the same tone he'd tell Akira to shut up. He pretty much had. 

Akira's stretched so far he can feel his seams splitting, heat pooling between his legs. His whole body feels scalding, like he's melting from the inside out. 

Iwai's finally moving in him properly, fucking him hard against the gross wall. Akira shudders in his grasp, pinned and broken in, drooling behind his fingers. There's nothing else to focus on or think about anymore. Just the stifling, growing pressure in his abdomen and the hot stretch of Iwai's cock cleaving him in two. 

"Oi, does it still hurt?" Iwai asks, voice low. "Can you take this?" 

His fingers loosen their grip on Akira's face so he can answer, and he's slowing his hips even if he's not stilling them completely. Akira's grateful. 

"Don't stop," Akira pants out, hips still moving insistently. "Don't stop now. Been thinking about this all day." 

Iwai hums in approval, picking the pace back up, holding Akira in place by the waist. 

"Good to know, brat." 

Akira whines between Iwai's fingers, feeling raw and overstimulated. He's getting close.

"Iwai-san, please." His voice comes out a lot higher than he expects, sounding broken. 

"Do you need to touch yourself?" He whispers low along the side of Akira's neck. 

Akira can't think straight, too full and too sensitive, so he settles for shaking his head. Iwai is getting so deep in him he can barely stand up. 

"Are you seriously getting off that hard on getting pounded dry in some gross bathroom?" 

Akira nods, desperately, rocking his ass back to take more of him, as much as he can, because he's getting so close he can't keep it together much longer. 

"Go on then, kid. Fuck yourself for me." Iwai's tone is tight and gruff, just hoarse enough to make Akira flush. 

He's already pitching his hips before he's asked, but knowing it's something Iwai wants from him makes it feel different, more urgent. Akira can barely support himself against the wall now he's so far gone, but getting himself there feels more important and achievable than that somehow. 

"Oh, shit, you're in so _deep_ , I-" 

Iwai hisses through his teeth, holding onto Akira's waist to keep him upright.

"That's right, kid, to the fuckin' base. You're taking it all." 

Akira just whimpers, words failing him, slamming himself back with as much force as he can muster, but his thighs are getting so weak its infuriating. 

"Iwai-san, please-" 

"What?" Iwai's cracking a smile, a mean one. Akira can hear it. He hasn't got the patience for this, he's hanging right at the edge and he's not got the strength to keep going, and- 

"Fuck's sake... Daddy, fuck me, I need it, I-" he's quickly muffled by a firm hand clasping his mouth shut, which is for the best as Iwai immediately gets back to work, and it's so hard not to wail. 

"That's it kiddo, you keep running your filthy mouth. There might be somebody left in here that hasn't heard you begging me for it." 

Akira nods his head desperately in Iwai's hand, the persistent nudging of thick cock at his core making his whole body shake. He doesn't care if he screams the whole building down. He's going to ride Iwai hard until they both finish, even if cops kick the door in. 

"You want me to finish inside?" Iwai chuckles, but his voice is strained. 

Akira's losing it, can't even think that far ahead but knows that's what he wants. He wants to be desecrated. His abdomen is locking up, unfortunately for Iwai, and his thighs are trembling so hard he'd definitely collapse if he wasn't being held in place. 

"Alright brat, I'll give you something to think about on the train home." 

Akira keens and it escapes from between Iwai's fingers, too easily identifiable as a sex noise, surely alerting too many people to what they were doing-

But Akira doesn't care. He's coming hard, twitching and leaking, untouched and helpless. Iwai hisses at him to shut up but, true to form, does not slow down or ease up in the slightest. Akira feels the stress in his body lock up all of the muscles in his middle at once, and then release like a tension knot. The relief is incredible. His eyes are running and he can't keep still, twitching back onto Iwai like his life depends on it. He's finally bottoming out properly, and it's too fucking late. 

Iwai's only a couple of minutes behind him, biting back a huff and snapping his hips into him. Akira's so tender and swollen he can barely tell what's happening anymore, but the restrained noises are familiar enough. Iwai's shooting him full of come, and it feels disgusting. He must look a state from behind. 

They catch their breath for a minute, Iwai helping Akira find his footing and wipe his ass. The afterglow wears off pretty quickly in a place this nasty.

Akira feels like he's been hit by a bus. 

Iwai looks exactly the same as when they started after tucking himself away, so he leaves first with the parcel from Akira's bag.

Akira listens to him wash his hands through the door. 

He takes a moment to sort his clothes, tutting at his stretched sweater, wipe come off himself, and pop a breath mint. 

He meets Iwai by the departures board and Iwai surprises him by pressing a cold can of tea into his hand. 

"I figured buying you coffee was probably a mistake?" 

"Oh god, yeah, it's all swill. I've been spoiled." 

Iwai pointedly takes a swig from his own can, some kind of big brand mocha, and shrugs.

"It all tastes the same to me, kid." 

"So where are we going?" 

Iwai frowns. "You not scuttling off home now you, uh-" His eyes flit around a little. "Got what you want?" 

"I said I wanted to see you, didn't I?" 

Iwai holds his gaze for a moment, lip pursed like he wants to argue, but then shrugs and rolls his eyes. "Can't be helped. Come on, then." 

Akira beams and follows him to the exit. He longs to link arms with him, hang off his elbow like some stupid girlfriend, but this isn't the time or the place. 

It stings, but it's nothing compared to how his ass feels at least. 

**Author's Note:**

> if for some reason you want to follow Akira's terrible example and put Vaseline up your ass, do remember that it'll eat through condoms like acid. be safe! 
> 
> i have a twitter now, find gunmetalfeather if you want to yell encouragement or insults at me


End file.
